


broken boys and brooklyn nights

by liionne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Tumblr Prompt, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Steve moves into a new apartment building, breaks into the hot neighbour's apartment, and strikes up an unlikely friendship with him.</p><p>based on the tumblr prompt: <i>"my stupid cat sneaked out on the balcony and into your open window and he has this habit of destroying furniture and pissing everywhere so i followed him inside and you came home earlier than i expected and found me in the middle of your living room but i swear i’m not a burglar ok"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	broken boys and brooklyn nights

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for any spelling mistakes. feel free to point them out to me! also, i did try to google and do some research around PTSD, so i hope what i've written here is alright. if you have issues, feel free to let me know!

"Freedom!" He hisses, glaring after his cat. "Freedom, come on!"

She's out on the blacony, the little ledge that joins the two outside apartments. Steve knows that she's gonna go inside the open window of the brand new next door neighbour; he just knows it. She's been grouchy today and he swears she does things just because she knows it'll piss him off, and seeing as he's trying to get her back pretty damn urgently, she probably has already sussed out that going inside that apartment? It's going to piss him off.

So she goes, tail swishing as she jumps inside.

"Freedom!" He snaps, and he sighs.

He wonders what to do. She's not particularly good with new places; every time they go to the vets she pisses everywhere and claws up any blanket Steve takes with her (and usually shreds the vet's arms too), so he does't trust her to just stay in that guy's apartment until he comes home. And it's not like Steve even knows him; Steve is pretty new to the building, having just moved back to Brooklyn after living in DC to work for a few years, and so he hasn't had the chance to meet his new neighbour properly yet. Maybe if he knew him, this wouldn't be half as bad.

But, because he doesn't, Steve has to climb across the balcony, and fling himself into the open window. Thank fuck for the military training and the martial arts classes and all the rest of it, because he manages to make it in without a hitch; he lands on his feet, doesn't knock anything over. Doesn't make a sound.

"Freedom?" He whispers, and then begins to wonder why he's whispering. There's noone here. He heard his neighbour go out, like, six hours ago, and Steve knows that he doesn't come back until later. He's got time. So this time he calls out louder, "Freedom?"

Nothing.

She's a little shit.

He searches the living room, but she must be hiding, because there's absolutely nothing to even tell of her presence there. So Steve goes hunting for her, scouting through this guy's apartment.

He's not nosy, not naturally, but he does find himself looking. And that's natural, isn't it? The living room looks nice; it's looks a little too much like something out of a catalog for Steve's tastes but hey, each to their own. Soft white sofas, fluffy looking green cushions, a tv mounted on the wall. There's shelves that are cluttered with books, movies, CDs and, best of all, vinyls. There aren't any photographs or anything, and Steve wonders what that means. It's an idle wonder; he doesn't put too much thought into it. Instead, he looks for his cat, finding her in the guy's bedroom after a moment, just about to claw the comforter.

"Freedom, no!" That spooks the Birman enough to make her jump, so Steve can grab her mid-air and wrap her up in his arms, ignoring her struggling even as she catches her dew claw on his arm and runs it right along to his wrist. He'll patch himself up once he's climbed back into his own apartment.

"You're a menace," he tells her, rambling as he goes. "You're the bane of my life, and I hate you, giving me those big baby eyes like that's gonna make everything better, well, guess who's sleeping in the kitchen tonight--"

"Who the fuck are you?"

Steve looks up as he enters the living room, and his jaw falls open. His neighbour is stood right there, bag in his hand, coat halfway off. Steve shuts his jaw with an audible click, and even Freeodm has stopped squirming, so she must appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

"My cat got into your house. You, uh, left the window open." Steve says. Freedom begins to purr. Steve scowls at her.

The other nods slowly. "So you followed her in?"

"She has a habit of trashing places." Steve explains. "I didn't want her to-- y'know--"

Steve huffs, but the other is already nodding. He shrugs out of his coat the rest of the way - revealing a tight fitting t-shirt and jeans - and throws it on top of the gym bag. Steve, meanwhile, tries his very best not to stare; his neighbour is _hot_.

He steps forward and reaches two fingers out, scratching Freedom behind the ears. She purrs, and curls claws into Steve's skin, pushing into the contact. "She's cute." He says, smiling softly.

"She's a shit." Steve corrects, tapping the bridge of her nose gently. That gets her to stop, and she pulls her close out; Steve does, sometimes, know how to get what he wants out of her.

"Well, that too." He agrees, stroking her one last time. "You're new here, right?"

"Moved in three days ago." Steve nods.

"I'm James," The other, _James,_ offers. "But call me Bucky, honestly."

"Bucky." Steve nods, giving a smile. Of course there are many things that could be said about the nickname, but uh, he'll keep them to himself. "I'm Steve."

"Steve." Bucky echoes, and Steve likes the way he says it. He likes the way it sounds in his mouth, rolling off his tongue, the way it rings in his ears. He'd listen to him say it over and over again, if he could. "And who's the lovely lady?"

"Freedom." He answers, and Bucky looks up at him. Steve knows he's holding back laughter, because everyone always does. Except for Natasha. Natasha never laughed. Bucky actually holds it back for a good long while, until he gives a snort, and then bursts into fits of giggles. Steve has to re-position Freedom, but he's laughing too, holding her against his chest.

"Freedom?" Bucky repeats, and Steve gives a nod. "It was that or Princess Snowflake."

Bucky laughs even harder, running a hand through his hair; it's tied back in a bun, Steve notes, but strands are falling loose all over the place. Steve wants to tuck one back into place, but he stops himself, just in the nick of time. "I like Freedom better." He nods, grinning brightly.

They pause, a lull in the conversation in which Steve finds they're both just looking at each other, smiling. Steve doesn't know what to say, but he finds himself pretty happy to just look at Bucky.

But then Steve deicdes that he should probably go. it's probably not a good thing for him to stand here all day. "Well," he says, clearing his throat. Bucky's eyes flick up to meet his - has Bucky been looking at his lips? No, surely not. Steve blushes regardless, shuffling from foot to foot. "She's gonna skin me with those claws if I stay any longer."

"Right." Bucky nods. Is he blushing too? Steve thinks he's blushing. "Of course, yeah. Hey, you're more than welcome to come round for coffee or something, y'know? I'll introduce you to some of the guys in the building, we're all pretty friendly around here."

"That'd be great." Steve nods, on his way to the door. "Thank you."

Steve nods again, and Bucky smiles. "I'll see you soon, Steve."

"See you soon." Steve responds, as he steps out of the apartment, and back into his own. _See you soon_ , he'd said.

Fuck. He hopes so.

~*~

  
He gets up at 6am, feeds the cat, and then goes for a run. He always used to go running with Sam back in DC, because not only was sam a vet himself but he was a pretty damn good psychologist - got into it after he came back, apparently, 'cause he didn't want to go back into the army and he had always been pretty damn good at talking to people. He and Steve don't do a lot of talking like that, never did, but the running is its own form of therapy; it's a time when he can let his mind go blank, focsing on nothing but the sound of his footfalls and his harsh breaths. It's still just as good, running without Sam, but they used to go for coffee after, or stop in the park and have a rest. Now, he just goes home.

Or he would just go home. If he didn't run into someone.

"Well, well, well," A familiar voice says, falling into pace beside him. "Look who's out. Bit early, isn't it? Dum Dum said you were an artist - I assumed that meant sleeping til late and staying up til the early hours of the morning? Sipping irish coffee from a plain white mug?"

"I think you have me confused with a college junior." Steve says, grinning at Bucky as the run side by side. "You been talking about me?"

"No." He says immedaitely, sounding sheepish; they both laugh, looking at one another. "Alright, maybe a little. Apparently you've already talked to most of the guys."

It's been a week since Steve was in Bucky's living room, holding his cat, bleeding into his carpet. He hasn't been round for coffee, even though he promised. He knows that's shit, but it's not like he's just avoided him; he says hello whenever he sees him, and stuff. He's just... shy.

"So what happened to coming for coffee?" Bucky asks, and Steve cringes. "You trying to tell me something?"

Steve shakes his head, running on for a second in silence. "Just wasn't sure when there was a good time."

"Well," Bucky says. "Now's a good time. Finish up here, go back to my place? I'll even make you breakfast."

Steve laughs, cheeks flushing bright pink as he nods. "Yeah, alright." He says. "But only if you make bacon."

"I'll give you bacon." Bucky nods. "Tonnes of bacon. More bacon than you can shake a stick at. Another piece of _bacon_ at."

Steve laughs, and he nods along with him, beaming brightly at Bucky. "Alright then. You're on."

If he pushes himself a little faster so that he can get to Bucky's, well then, he's not going to bring it up.

~*~

"This is good. Like, really good. Amazingly good." Steve says around a mouthful of bacon and syrup, munching through his breakfast steadily. Bucky, opposite him, grins. "Thanks. Taught myself after I settled here; to cook, I mean. Ain't as easy as it looks."

"Trust me, I know." Steve says. "I could burn water. Used to get told off in my old place for trying to cook; we got the fire department called in _way_ too many times."

Bucky chuckles around an egg, and says, "Why'd you move out here? They kick you out for trying to burn the place down?"

"Left my job." Steve answers instead. "Decided it wasn't the right place for me, y'know, so I left. Came back home."

"Home." Bucky nods. He's grinning. "Thought I heard the accent."

"Can't shake it." Steve agrees, and gives a grin. "You've got it too, though. You always lived here?"

"Pretty much." Bucky nods. "Joined the army when I was sixteen, did a stint in Russia, but then I came back. Been back for a couple of years now."

Steve gives a nod, finishing the last of his eggs. "What did you do in Russia."

With the tip of a metal finger, Bucky taps his nose. "Need to know, I'm afraid."

"A man of mystery." Steve grins. "I like it."

They grin at each other for a minute, and then Bucky takes his plate for him, shoving it in the sink. Steve jumps up to start drying the dishes, helping as Bucky washes them.  
"Is the arm waterproof?" He asks.

It's the first time he's mentioned it, but not the first time he's noticed it. He didn't notice it that time in Bucky's living room, but actually when he shifted all of his shopping bags to one arm one time when Steve was out getting the paper. Steve had asked him if he wanted help, as he'd eyed the silver shaped into the perfect bicep, a soft whirring sound as he held everything aloft. Steve had been captivated, but had shut the door when Bucky told him he had it. He had been interested ever since, but he didn't know if it was a sensitive topic or not.

"Uh huh. Inside and out. Stark Tech; his bullets tore my arm off, so he replaced it. And honestly, it's pretty freaking good. I'm impressed every day." Bucky nods, handing him a plate.

"From the army?" Steve asks, but he knows it's a stupid question.

Bucky nods. "From the army." He answers. His voice is a little bit colder. Steve runs a hand through his hair, and rubs the back of his neck. "I left cause'a nightmares." He says.  
This isn't a conversation to be having for what is technically only their second meeting, and their first week of knowing each other, but Steve has never been very good at normal. From the way Bucky turns and looks at him, it seems he isn't either. He seems almost _happy_. Content, at least. That they have common ground.

"Nightmares?" He asks.

Steve nods. "Nightmares." He repeats. "Pretty bad PTSD. Someone slams a door too loud--"

He shrugs. He doesn't know why he's admitting all of this. It just seems to be coming out of its own accord when he looks into those big grey eyes. "My birthday's July Fourth. Haven't been able to properly celebrate since before I left."

Bucky winces, and though Steve's feeling pretty vulnerable right now, Bucky doesn't offer anything until the dishes are all done about five minutes later. At which point, he says, "Your birthday is on Independence Day, and your cat's called Freedom? You're a walking, dorito-shaped cliche."

And that, of course, gets Steve to laugh. Which makes Bucky laugh. And then they dissolve into fits of laughter, and Steve forgets that he ever opened up to Bucky without Bucky giving him anything in return.

~*~

Steve finds himself struggling to get into the apartment a week or so later, overloaded with groceries and a new cat bed, because Freedom has officially wrecked her other one, and new art supplies for the little work room/studio he's creating in his home. He's been putting it off for a while, actually, but never mind. He's gotten around to it now.  
Bags start slipping, and Steve curses. He holds one up with his thigh, balances the other on his foot, holding it up and shifting to keep it balanced. Just as the bag on his foot is about to fall over, sending god only knows what crashing to the ground, someone comes to his rescue.

Dum Dum. Thank god.

"C'mon now, Cap," He says, grabbing the bags that had fell and putting in the pin for the door, opening it for Steve. Steve went to retrieve the bags, but Dum Dum didn't give them back. "Thought you were supposed to be smart? Ain't gonna be looking so smart when your eggs are smashed all over the pavement."

"Thanks, Tim." Steve nods, reaching for the bags. Dum Dum shakes his head, gesturing to the stairs. So he's helping Steve up. Right.

"Don't mention it." He says. He pauses, and then, "So you and Bucky are getting friendly, huh?"

"Yeah." Steve nods. "He's nice."

"Yeah," Dum Dum agrees, "He is. He'll be good for you, y'know."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks.

"Well." Dum Dum shrugs. "You both got shit going on, right? And it sounds pretty darn similar if you ask me, so there's that. Although in all fairness, Bucky's never told me very much."

Something about that makes Steve's stomach stop roiling. Good, he thinks. So it's not just Steve he doesn't share with.

"And I know you got something going on behind those baby blues." Dum Dum adds.

Steve arches an eyebrow, about to ask what the hell he means (though of course, he knows) when Dum Dum cuts him off. "You two just take it easy, alright?"

He opens the door to Steve's apartment, and hands him back the bags.

"See you round, Cap" He says, before he walks away. Steve blinks. A strange encounter if he ever did have one.

~*~

Over the next three weeks, Steve actually sees Bucky a hell of a lot more. Almost every morning they go out for their run, and go back to Bucky's for breakfast. Sometimes Bucky texts him and says he can't make it. Sometimes Steve texts Bucky and says that _he_ can't make it. They understand, he thinks. He understands a fair bit, anyway, and after what he said at Bucky's--

Well. He's not thinking about it, because it kind of really fucking hurts.

But after three weeks, he finds himself on Steve's couch, late at night. Neither of them could sleep, so Steve had invited him round, opened a bottle of wine, because it was after midnight and beer with a midday thing and beer wasn't even close to strong enough anyways.

"It was an IED." Bucky says, out of nowhere. They'd just finished talking about what Freedom was like as a kitten, as she sprawls herself out along the top of the radiator, and so the new topic is completely unexpected. Steve's mouth opens, and then it closes again. He nods for Bucky to continue.

"It was an IED, and it blew my arm off. Made out of old Stark scarp, 's why he gave me the new arm. And y'know, I was lying there, like, bleeding out in the middle of the fucking desert, and I was just-" He pauses. He shrugs. "Glad. I didn't like the army so much anymore. Was gonna quit after my last tour. I was kind of glad to be going. Glad was me, too, 'n not one of the others."

Steve nods. He doesn't speak, but he nods.

"I woke up in an army hospital and came to my senses, of course." Bucky says. He finishes his glass. "And then they shipped me to London. And then to Washington. And then I went to Russia; found a job there, after I got the arm."

Steve wonders if he'll go into that, but he just says, "Boring stuff. Nothing special. But it was a change of scenery, y'know?"

"Yeah." Steve murmurs. "I know."

"I know what you mean about the Fourth of July." Bucky says. "Scares me shitless too. I've got to sleep under my bed - how stupid is that? I'm twenty nine and sleeping under my own bed 'cause I'm scared of fireworks. And thunderstorms, fuck." Bucky gives a bitter laugh. "Y'know it's not just the noise with them, the thunder, it's--"

"The lightning." Steve finishes. "The flash."

"Right." Bucky nods.

Silence.

Steve doesn't say anything. He's not sure what he would say, if he did. So instead he reaches across, and takes a hold of Bucky's hand, tugging him towards him until Bucky is leaning into his side and pushing his face into Steve's chest.

"Never told anyone that before." Bucky murmurs. "'specially not to an almost stranger."

"I'm not an almost stranger," Steve says, sounding offended. He doesn't really know if hes actually offended or not. "How am I an _almost stranger_?"

"Well," Bucky saus. "I don't know things about you that friends would."

"Like what?" Steve asks. "Tell me what you wanna know."

Bucky pauses. He's a little drunk, Steve realises, but that's alright. Steve isn't drunk. He's got all his wits about him.

"What's your favourite colour?" Bucky asks.

"Blue."

"Favourite animal?"

"I like elephants."

"Favourite food?"

"Cheese burgers. From that diner down on 6th?"

"Yeah. Favourite movie?"

"Dead Poet's Society."

"Favourite book?"

"Harry Potter. The first one."

"You fucking nerd." Bucky giggles. Steve just gives a shrug. "Sue me."

Bucky laughs again, and he sighs softly. Steve thinks he's about to say something, but then he realises that Bucky's just fallen asleep. Steve wonders if he should carry him through to his bedroom, or his own apartment, but he doesn't. He just gives a soft smile, and lets his eyes fall shut, falling asleep himself.

~*~

Bucky is gone in the morning, but that's alright. Steve thinks he prefers that.

He can't do normal.

Neither can Bucky.

~*~

They go for coffee a week or two later. They sit opposite one another, and they talk. Steve tells Bucky about the last girlfriend he had, Peggy. Peggy was wonderful, she was great, but she had to go home to England and Steve - well, Steve didn't want to follow. She understood. They're still friends. Bucky tells Steve about his last boyfriend, Brock. "Didn't realise how much of a manipulative asshole he was til near the end." He says, sipping his second filter coffee. Steve nurses a macchiato. It tastes good. "Used to make me feel bad for the PTSD 'cause he came out of the army just fine, y'know? Fucking dumb."

"What happened?" Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs. "Dumped him. Moved on. Took me a long time, but it was the best decision I ever made."

Steve nods. Maybe that's why him and Bucky haven't kissed yet.

Because they've been gearing up to it. They have. They keep getting closer and closer to it, like when Bucky stands close to him in the elevator of their apartment building, or Steve dips his head to look at him, putting them on a more similar level. He knows they've been dancing around it, and he really wants it, but nothing has ever happened.  
It's a real problem.

Bucky gives a sigh, and finishes his coffee. "Y'know before, I would have just asked you out."

Steve chokes on his coffee. "What?"

"Before all of this." He waves his right hand at his left hand. "I would have just went up to you, and asked you out, and took you home. I would've. We could've already been dating right now."

Steve takes a careful sip of his drink. Maybe he's dreaming. He hopes he's dreaming.

"But I- I'm different now. I'm more... cautious. And I have my reasons." Bucky says, and Steve nods. He understands.

"I understand."

"I'm sorry." Bucky adds.

Steve shakes his head. "It's okay. I understand."

Bucky nods slowly. "I do like you though." He says, after a long moment's silence. "I like you a lot."

He looks at Steve, grey hues meeting blue, and he smiles. Steve smiles right back. "I like you a lot too." He admits.

Bucky nods. "Good." He murmurs.

"Good." Steve repeats.

He doesn't know what this means, whether it means that he and Bucky aren't going to try anything or that they are, in fact, but he decides it just doesn't matter. He just smiles, and sips his coffee, and turns the attention to something he saw earlier that day. At least they had the conversation. That's a good start.

~*~

Steve always knew it was going to come around, but that doesn't mean he's prepared.

Fourth of July.

Fuck.

"You're gonna be alright, man," Sam tells him, as Steve makes breakfast and facetimes him at the same time. "You always hype yourself up. All you gotta do is, right before the fireworks, go to bed. Put some headphones in, turn your music up, block it out."

"But that's not really dealing with the problem, is it?" Steve sighs.

"No." Sam admits. "But it's the best advice I can offer you." A shout from behind him; Natasha, no doubt. "Look, I have to go. Just enjoy your birthday. Twenty nine. Almost an actual adult. Go on and enjoy yourself." Another shout in the background. "And Natasha says happy birthday. I'll call you in the morning, alright?"

"Alright." Steve mumbles. He feels almost like a child, but that's not his fault. "See ya."

"See ya." Sam nods, before the call goes dead. Steve sighs again. It's going to be a long day.

~*~

Or, not.

Five minutes post-phone call, and the door creaks open. Bucky shuffles in, smiling brightly. He sets a tray down in front of Steve, and nods to it. "open it."

Stevesquints, but pulls the top off anyone, to find a giant cookie. A giant white, blue and red cookie. Steve gawps at it. "Buck-"

"Hey, it's a big day." Bucky says. "Had to get my best guy something."

Steve blushes at the though of being Bucky's "best guy", and nods. He cuts them both a slice, and he smiles. It tastes good. Sickly and sweet and chocolatey; everything a giant cookie should be.

"I was thinking," Bucky says, as Steve munches through the cookie. "You could come over tonight, if you want. Beer, pizza, a movie. Might make all of that--" His gaze flicked to the window, to the park outside. "--a bit of easier?"

Steve found himself smiling brightly, nodding. "Yeah." He says. "Yeah, that's be great. Thank you."

"No problem." Bucky smiles. "Like I said - best guy. Gotta make sure you have a good birthday." He claps Steve on the shoulder as he walks backwards to the door. "But before that, I gotta go work, so I'll see you tonight!"

"See ya," Steve grins as he goes. He feels lighter even as the door clicks shut, as the footsteps fade away. He's not going to be alone. He's going to be alright. He's going to have Bucky.

He'll be okay.

~*~

Wrong. Bucky isn't as terrified of the fireworks as Steve is, apparently, but Steve wonders if he's putting on a front. The closer it gets, the more antsy Steve gets, and the more he hates himself.

"I should just go--" He says, but Bucky grips his hand. "Stay." He murmurs.

And so Steve does.

But then the fireworks _actually_ start. They both jump, but it's Steve who starts shaking afterwards, holding his hands in his lap so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Bucky grips his hands in his again.

"It's okay." He says. Steve wonders how he's so fucking calm, how he can just sit there, how he's not shaking and screaming and hiding. "Just focus on me."

Steve does. He focuses on Bucky. But another firework goes bang and even though he's focusing on Bucky he feels his breathing pick up. He's not there anymore he's back in a colourless dessert, surrounded by sand, by beige, screaming, shouting, people running, the bang and the crackle of bullets in the air-

And then Bucky kisses him, and Steve fucking loses it.

He kisses him back hungrily, hands curling in his hair, tugging impatiently. He shifts to press against him properly, holding him, keeping him close. Bucky's lips are soft and slightly parted and it makes Steve's head spin, distracts him from everything that's going on outside. Bucky trails one hand up his spine, and Steve feels like he might die right there and then.

When Bucky pulls away, they're both panting. Steve closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around him. There's still fireworks, but he doesn't know if they're in his head or not.  
He looks up, opens his eyes, and sees Bucky. Bucky looking right back at him, studying him.

He kisses Steve again. This time Steve is ready to greet him, meeting him halfway, mouth open and tongue slipping into Bucky's mouth. Over eager, maybe, but he doesn't care. He needs this.

They kiss, and they kiss, even after the fireworks have stopped. Silence and complete darkness outside, the fourth turning into the fifth of July, and yet they just keep kissing, over and over and over.

~*~

Steve wakes up in the morning fully clothed, with his head on Bucky's chest.

At first he doesn't know what's happened, because this is unusual, but then he looks around and remembers the night before, everything that had happened, and he smiles. Last night had actually been a really good night, after the initial panic.

Bucky stirs, and Steve shifts, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Morning." He murmurs.

Bucky cracks one eye open, stares, and then smiles. "Mornin', gorgeous." He slurs. Steve grins, and nuzzles into him, making Bucky sigh softly. "I could get used to this."

  
Steve pillows his head over Bucky's beating heart, feeling his own heart line up, keeping time. Well, maybe he's imagining that, but whatever. Bucky is warm, and he smells good, and Steve is happy, content, settled. Yeah, he thinks. He could really get used to this too.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm over at [achaiion](http://achaiion.tumblr.com) or [liibxrte](http://liibxrte.tumblr.com) for more info, for prompts, or to chat!


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